Kean closed the painful interview abruptly by vanishing into his room. “All because he’s missed twelve hours up in the North,” muttered Farrer, as he hurried thankfully out of range. “He never used to be so set on holidays. His heart’s more with her Ladyship than his work, nowadays.” Sir Edward, having said his say, did not refer to the matter again, but he proved a difficult task-master all through that day. He worked ferociously and his staff found themselves hard put to it to keep the pace he had set. It was late before he left his Chambers and then it was with a sheaf of papers that kept him hard at it till the small hours, in spite of which an accumulation of work still remained which would keep him in town till late the following day. Ever since a severe heart attack had brought Lady Kean almost to death’s door he had dreaded leaving her for any length of time and, on the few occasions on which any great distance lay between them, he was a difficult man to work with. He went to bed fretted and out of patience and his first act on reaching his Chambers in the morning was to ring up Staveley, ostensibly to let his hostess know when to expect him, but actually in the hope of a few words with his wife and an assurance that all was well with her. There was the usual vexatious delay over the trunk call, but when he did get through, he was surprised to hear Lady Kean’s voice at the other end. She should, by rights, have been breakfasting in her room according to her wont, and he said so. “I might have known you’d be up to your tricks as soon as I turned my back,” he told her. “In spite of which, you were going to ask for me and drag me out of bed in your usual heartless way,” she mocked. “You could have gone back again as soon as I’d done with you. As it is, I suppose you are up and dressed and in for a strenuous day. The folly of women!” For the first time since his arrival in London he ceased to feel at odds with the world. Even at this distance his wife’s influence made itself felt and already all his annoyance had evaporated in the mere delight of listening to her voice. “There’s wisdom in my madness this morning, though,” she assured him. “I guessed you’d ring up early and I wanted to catch you myself. I should have rung up yesterday if I had not known you were too busy to help. I’m worried, Edward, and I want you.” In an instant he was on the alert. “You don’t feel seedy?” “No, no. I’m all right. It isn’t that. But come back as soon as you can, my dear. That child, Cynthia, is in trouble and I want you to see her.” Kean’s face darkened. As far as it was in him to take an interest in any woman besides his wife he liked Cynthia Bell, though it is doubtful whether, if it had not been for Lady Kean’s fondness for the child, he would have paid any special attention to her. He did not, however, propose to have Sybil worried by the consequences of any of that young woman’s mad escapades.